


Safety

by draculard



Series: Nightthrawn 15 Day Ficlets [9]
Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon Divergence, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Angel, M/M, Offscreen Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29571600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: "You're enjoying this," Nightswan growls.
Relationships: Nevil Cygni | Nightswan/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Series: Nightthrawn 15 Day Ficlets [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158710
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Safety

**Author's Note:**

> Half-assed related to [Ally/Enemy.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105151/chapters/66186781) Basically, Thrawn's escape attempt works for Eli and the crew, but Thrawn himself is left behind in Angel's clutches, leaving Nightswan to get him out of a tough spot.
> 
> Written for the Day 9 Prompt, "Coarse."

There’s nothing soft about Nightswan. Unlike so many of the Imperial officers Thrawn’s met, his hands are callused and coarse, his palms rough enough against Thrawn’s skin that it makes his nerves stand on end. 

He feels the rasp of Nightswan’s beard against his cheek, closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

“You’re enjoying this,” Nightswan growls.

“Not at all,” Thrawn says. His voice comes out as a thick murmur, his tongue too heavy to move properly. He focuses on the dull full-body pain consuming him instead, just to make sure he doesn’t become a liar. 

Nightswan’s back is warm and firm against his abdomen, the even up-and-down rhythm of his stride rocking Thrawn to sleep despite the pain in his ribs. He feels Nightswan’s arm shift and a moment later there are fingers in his hair, naturally rough, trying to be gentle as he feels for the wound. The angle is awkward; it would be better for Nightswan to put him down, but they can’t stop walking until they reach the escape pod. 

“I told him not to hurt you,” Nightswan says.

“Mm,” says Thrawn, eyes closed. Nightswan taps him on the cheek, trying to wake him — an understandable and considerate gesture, but Thrawn isn’t really in any danger of falling asleep. He opens his eyes anyway and gives Nightswan a baleful ‘are you happy now?’ gaze that the other man doesn’t see.

A moment later, they reach the ship’s nearest escape pod and Nightswan pauses, sinking to his knees to let Thrawn stand on his own. He manages it better than Nightswan expects, even climbs into the pod on his own. Mostly. With support from the wall.

“There’s only one seat,” he says.

Nightswan slides into the aforementioned seat without responding. He hits a button and the hatch slides closed behind him.

“We’re sharing,” he says, adjusting the seat so there’s almost enough room for two men who are over two meters tall to sit together. Thrawn huffs out a sigh and immediately regrets it, his broken nose turning the slightest breath into an ordeal. 

“You’ll get blood on your clothes,” he warns, already moving forward.

“I’ve already got blood on my clothes,” Nightswan snaps. He lets go of the controls briefly so Thrawn can sit on his lap, both of them going silent from the innate awkwardness of the position. Thrawn isn’t sure he’s ever sat on anyone’s lap; he remembers being  _ stridently  _ vocal about his distaste for the practice when he was a child. Now, too injured to stand and with no other options available, he finds it not quite so terrible as it used to seem.

Belatedly, he says, “I apologize.”

Nightswan doesn’t seem to know what he means.

“For the blood,” Thrawn clarifies.

Understanding and disgust light up Nightswan’s face. He waves the apology away. “Not your blood,” he says gruffly. “Angel’s.”

In that case, Thrawn is not sorry. In fact, he’s rather pleased about that. He suspects he’ll cherish the memory of Nightswan pummeling Angel for years to come. 

Really, it’s the only pleasant thing he has to think about from the last twenty-four hours. That, and the feeling of Nightswan’s broad palm against his side, steadying him as Nightswan ejects the escape pod and steers it away from the ship one-handed. 

He feels unconsciousness creeping up on him. He can’t bring himself to fight it; instead, he leans back against Nightswan’s chest, lets his eyes slide closed.

Despite his wounds and the wreckage of Nightswan’s ship behind them, he feels almost safe. 


End file.
